This is a true story—only the facts have been changed.
From the film
The Seven-Per-Cent Solution
The facts are fictions. There are no facts. Certainly not like those we cling to. Worthless particulars. Nor are there particular judgements of fact. So where do we think we find ourselves with facts and the accumulation of facts? In the logical judgement, S is not P? In, if S is P, T is Q or S is P or T is Q? I doubt it. In the judgement of the senses? In abstraction? In inference? Nothing there to support the fact, but we are always content to live with half truths.
So, if not in the place of facts, as there is no such place (only the illusion of a place), where and how do we find ourselves? Ultimately in knowing the whole and not the parts. But a crucial first step in knowing that something is true is in the separation of the true idea from the illusory image. And if the idea is justice, there is no better justice than doing justice to an idea. Justice then is what I am after. The justice that composes the soul, untouched by a mischievous consciousness. Beware the consciousness that says it is clear, beware the idea that deludes in endless duplication. Opposition is all around so it will require immense courage, courage as a whole human act. The true idea however will introduce the comforting conatus which itself leads to the abandonment of the idea. This then, let me say, may become as simple as slipping on a satin glove. If however, you have never been rapt in a cruel fantasy, maybe you should adopt or adapt the philosophy of as if. Fictions are decisive.